


'39

by amaranthe71



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranthe71/pseuds/amaranthe71
Summary: You live an ordinary life. That is until you find yourself in 1971, at one of Queen's first ever concerts, with no idea how to get back to your own time. Broken and lost in a foreign world, you find a moment of solace with four wonderful misfits.





	1. Keep Yourself Alive

You hobble down the street, trying to stay balanced in your six-inch platform shoes, wondering why the hell you ever agreed to be Stevie Nicks. It was your idea, in fairness, to have a seventies themed birthday party for your mother, who was turning sixty-four today. She loved the seventies, the music, the glamour, the bloody heels! Although you had your difference in the past, she has done a good job of raising you all by herself and tonight was the very least she deserved.

You finally reach the pub that the party is being held at and enter, removing your coat and hanging it up on the hangers. You smile, seeing your friends and family already gathered here, and walk over to them. Though they are no longer your friends, they have transformed into musical icons. You are pleased to see that no one has the same outfit as you.

“Nice outfit Y/N,” your friend Michael, dressed as David Bowie, says.

“Looks like you made that outfit under pressure,” you joke, even though his costume is fabulous and you are ever so slightly jealous. Knowing him, he sewed every sequin individually and in the perfect place.

“I’d say that was true but then I would be telling you sweet little lies,” he replies as you both laugh and hug each other.

You mingle with some of the other guests, observing their outfits. Your aunt and uncle have come as Benny and Frida of ABBA, your old roommates from college are Elton John and Michael Jackson, your best friend Anna as Diana Ross and neighbour as John Lennon.

“What time is she getting here?” your uncle, Wayne asks you, patting you on the back.

“About ten minutes,” you reply, now getting a little agitated. You know she will love it but you’re nervous it’s a little too late. For most of your youth, you were bratty, foul-mouthed and rebellious, making single motherhood as hard as it could be for her. But you’ve grown up now and are wishing to make it up to her.

Ten minutes go by and you begin to organise everyone so that they are hidden in plain sight. Your mother walks through the door, glances around before her eyes land on you and everyone jumps out at her. The smile that appears on her face made this all worthwhile. “You did this? For me?” she asks gleefully.

“Yes. Do you like it?” you ask, happy with yourself.

“Of course. Your costumes are all brilliant. Thank you,” she puts your face between her palms and kisses your forehead. “Thank you darling.”

 

With a few drinks in you, you start to feel dizzy and restricted and so decide to get some fresh air. The rain is beating down on the pavement but you don’t mind. The rain is cool and soothing, not harsh and dramatic. You have always seen the beauty in things that others would deem unworthy, tedious even. You watch the droplets, sinking to the ground one by one, being absorbed by the concrete. Starting anew.

“Here you are,” your best friend Anna says, snapping her fingers in front of your face and bringing you out of your daydream. “You alright?”

“Yeah just needed some air,” you say. You are a little bit low if you’re honest, but you want everyone to enjoy the party.

“Okay, I’m just heading off with…well I don’t know his name but I can’t know everything. See you tomorrow Y/N.” With that, she leaves with some bloke you’ve never seen before and you are alone again.

“Hiding from the crowd again Y/N?” an all too familiar voice says as a figure approaches you, face masked by the rain. You shiver at the sound of it. “Aren’t you just so predictable.”

“Fuck off Sean,” you yell at your ex-boyfriend. Your abusive ex-boyfriend whom you never wanted to set eyes upon again. Yet here he was, following you around like a bloody lapdog. “You weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on Y/N, no need to be like that.” He steps closer and you edge backwards, recoiling at his menacing presence. God how you hate the way he says your name. Rolling off his tongue like venom.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said piss off!” Tears pricking at your eyes, you turn on your heel and run from him, as fast as you can given your choice of footwear. You don’t check behind you to see if he is following you, instead of focusing on the steps you are taking.

Finally, you find an alleyway to duck into and, deciding he has not followed you, after all, you light a cigarette and rest your soaking wet Y/H/C hair against the brick wall. The rain masks your tears as you try to cover your cigarette. You breathe in the smoke, deep into your lungs. Deep into your soul.

Suddenly, you see a blinding flash of light from further down the alley, around a corner. A loud bang makes you almost jump out of your own skin as a cat knocks over a dustbin and bolts past you. The light is still flashing but starting to dim. Curiosity gets the better of you and you go to investigate.

 

You stumbled forward, no memory of the last few seconds. You put it down to the alcohol and head back to the bar, hoping that Sean has left by now. You know that if he set foot in the party your mother will have dragged him out kicking and screaming by the ear lobe anyway. You notice very little of your surroundings, gazing mostly at your feet, as you make your way back to the bar. You go inside and the first thing you do is order another drink. You look forward and notice there is a band playing but you don’t remember hiring them unless Wayne had and forgot to tell you.

You look at them and, although they are a bit blurry from where you are standing you can see they’re definitely in seventies get up. If you can remember correctly, they are playing ‘Keep Yourself Alive’, one of Queen’s earlier and lesser-known singles. They even look the part too. Scarily so.

“Er sorry love, we don’t accept euros,” the bartender says to you, handing you back your fiver. You stare at him, beyond confused. You were sure you handed him a five-pound note. Nevertheless, you shrug and decide it is probably time to go home.

You don’t get very far as you start to puke outside the pub, bracing yourself against the wall rather ungracefully. “Are you alright there love?” a man with big, black, curly hair says to you.

You turn around to see a man who looks insanely familiar. “You know if you squint you look exactly like him,” you say, slurring every other word like the drunken mess you are. You swear you haven’t even drunk that much.

“Look like who?” he says.

“Christ, the name’s gone now. Guitarist of Queen.” You mentally slap yourself, how could you forget his name? Your mother was a huge fan and you had grown up listening to their music.

“Who is Queen?” he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

Your jaw drops. He’s joking. He must be. But he looks deadly serious. “You’re joking, right? Is it even possible to not know who Queen are? You play for them!”

“I’m sure Liz is a lovely woman but I don’t think me and her look very alike.” _Okay, he’s got to be pulling my leg, y_ ou think to yourself. _I’m just too drunk and stupid to tell_. “Don’t think she’d ever let me play the guitar at Buckingham Palace either.”

“Oi Bri are you actually going to help tidy up or just buggering off to read your shitty space books again?” Another man, meant to be Roger, a name you can actually remember, appears. He too looks ridiculously like the real thing.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! And what are you doing tomorrow exactly, my nan needs her dentures fitting?” The man with big hair replies.

“ _Hilarious._ You alright there?” he says, noticing you and how unsteady of your feet you currently are. Maybe they look so accurate because you are pissed and perhaps when you sober up they will look atrocious.

“Yeah I’m good,” you say, propping yourself up against the wall. “Would you mind calling me a taxi?”

“You’re a taxi.” He laughs but his friend merely rolls his eyes. “Dunno where the nearest payphone is,” the blond replies.

“Helpful Rog,” the other man scolds. He turns to you and looks sympathetically. “Have you got any friends with you? Anyone you can contact?”

You ignore his question, more confused about what the Roger lookalike said. “Payphone? Can’t you use your mobile?”

“My what?” His eyebrows furrow at your question like you just asked him about something alien.

“Your mobile phone,” you repeat.

“Don’t have one, whatever it is. Is that some European thing?”

“It’s twenty nineteen, who the fuck doesn’t have a mobile?” you ask, dumbfounded. All you want is to be home, in bed, but these guys are making it extremely difficult for you.

They both look at each other, befuddled and slightly concerned. “Um,” the dark-haired one says. “It’s nineteen-seventy-one.”

“Uhhh no, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is,” says Roger as he points you in the direction of a newspaper stand. You look at the date at the top and to your surprise, it does in fact say nineteen-seventy-one. What the hell is going on here? How drunk are you?

“Is she off her face?” You hear Roger ask in the background, not really registering what they were saying.

“Oh yeah. She thinks I’m so kind of queen.”

“She’s not the only one Bri.”

“Still better than being a dentist.”

“Night darlings,” you hear another voice say, as he exits the pub. The man is tanned, dark-haired, wears flamboyant clothes and his infectious smile shows off an impressive set of teeth. Your heart stops beating. “See you tomorrow, if you can pull yourselves out of bed that is.”

“It’s usually you who is late Fred,” says the man first man in a friendly tone.

“Fashionably late dear. See you both.” ‘Fred’ walks past you, his gaze just missing yours. There is no mistaking it now. That man is Freddie Mercury and you just attended a Queen concert in nineteen-seventy-one. The men you are talking to are Roger Taylor and Brian May. You remember the flash of light and it finally occurs to you what has happened. You have travelled in time. That or you fell asleep and this is all just one very bizarre dream. If suddenly everyone is naked it will make a lot more sense.

“Er, are you okay?” asks Roger as you stare at both of them, completely vexed. It is as though your mind has separated from your body and you are watching yourself from above. Not really thinking or feeling as you regularly would. You are in a state of nothingness.

You stumble a little and before you can open your mouth to say anything, your legs give way and you fall to the ground. Everything goes black as the night and you can hear a panic arise around you.

“Shit what do we do?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.”

“Yeah clearly.”

“Well thank God we have a dentist on hand, how useful you are.”

“Shut up Brian.”

That is the last thing you remember from this strange strange night. Soon you can neither see nor hear a sound and you are truly alone.


	2. Doing All Right

You are jolted awake by your own dream, forcing your body up into a sitting position against your will. You stare at the four foreign walls glaring back at you. They are blank, dirty white, and you realise you have been sleeping on nothing but a mattress. You look down to see you are wearing an oversized t-shirt that you have never seen before in your life. You panic, wondering how you got here and why you were stupid enough to have a one-night stand on your mother’s birthday. You were never the type of person to do this. Well rarely. Well, not in a while at least. _I must have hundreds of missed calls,_ you think as you pull out your phone to see that there are in fact none. _No signal? Where the hell am I exactly?_

You apprehensively open the door and creep towards the bathroom. When you’re done you head back towards the bedroom to collect your stuff when you hear two male voices.

“She awake yet?” you hear one of them say, their voice ricocheting off the thin walls.

“She was still asleep last time I checked,” the second one replies. “Hopefully she’s a little more…sane this morning.”

 _Shit_ , you think _. Shit, shit, shit_. Suddenly the memories of last night come pouring back to your unwilling mind and hit you right between the eyes. You peer through the door of the kitchen as inconspicuously as you can and you were right. You had met Brian May and Roger Taylor last night. In nineteen-seventy-one. While part of you was excited because obviously, it was Queen how could you not be, the other part was thinking how in hell were you going to get home? You push the door forward with dread and enter the kitchen. The two men stare at you and you immediately want to disappear.

“Ah, sleeping beauty,” Roger greets you, mouth full of frosties. You know he’s judging you and you can’t blame him, you must have come across like a right nutter last night.

“Feeling any better this morning?” Brian asks you says sweetly, which takes you back a little.

“Yeah, a little. Kinda hungry,” you reply, knowing that is gone midday and you have missed both breakfast and lunch.

“Of course, she probably has the munchies,” Roger says under his breath and gets a sharp glare from Brian.

“Shut up, Rog. Haven’t got much in I’m afraid. Just toast. He’s has had the last of the cereal, despite the fact he doesn’t actually live here.” He points at the blonde who stops mid chew, looking defensive.

 “That’s fine. Thank you for letting me stay Brian,” You say as you put a slice of bread in the toaster.

He glares at you as you speak and you remember that he never actually told you his name. Eventually, his gaze softens and he continues. “That’s alright. We’ve got to head out in a bit to meet our new bass player but we can drop you back home on the way.”

“Oh right, you’re in a band.” You take a bite out of the dry piece of toast.  

“Yeah,” says Roger. “Smile.”

“Nice name,” you say, sarcastically to yourself. You figure they must change their name at some point in the near future but you couldn’t remember exactly when.

“So, where is home?” asks Brian.

You start to panic. You don’t have anywhere to go until you can work out how to get back to your own time. “Uh well my boyfriend kicked me out and I have no money at all so…the nearest hostel I guess.” It wasn’t a total lie. Though you had walked out on him voluntarily after years of torture and were now living with your mother again. Exactly where would you wanted to be in your mid-twenties.

The two men look at each other awkwardly. “Well let us give you some money at least,” says Brian.

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, though admittedly it would help you out a little.

“It’s really no trouble. We did quite well after that gig.”

“You were really good.”

“Surprised you remember any of it,” Roger says, laughing. Brian shoots him a look like daggers and silences him.

“No really, I think you guys are gonna be really big someday.”

“Thanks, er we didn’t actually ask your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Well thanks Y/N. Roger go get the keys.”

“It’s fine I can walk. Just give me the address,” you say as Brian writes it down for you on a piece of paper. You smile in thanks, get changed back into your costume, which actually looks normal here, grab the belongings you do actually have with you and say goodbye.

As you walk down the street, trying to work out where the fuck you are, you draw the cold January air into your lungs in an attempt to calm your anxiety. It was failing. What if you can’t get back? Will you have to stay here? Forever? Get a job? Have a whole new life? People will wonder what happened to you back home. The police would look for you. Will you have even existed? What happens in the future if you meet yourself? You had been wondering why nineteen-seventy-one but then it hit you. The year your mother was born. She was born in three months.  

A car horn beeps, startling you and making you go over on your heels, dropping your bag and it’s contents _._ You scramble to shove everything back inside and rise to your feet. _What the fuck?!_ you think as you watch a blue van pull up beside you. You look at the driver to see that it is Roger at the wheel. “Get in,” he says bluntly.

You squint at him, confused. “Why? You said it was only ten minutes away, I’m nearly there.”

“Well for a start you’re going the completely wrong direction so you’re now twenty minutes away genius,” Roger complains.

“What my dear friend is trying to say is that you can stay with me until you find somewhere else to live,” Brian says and you can’t actually believe your ears. Brian May wants you to move in with him? You subtly pinch yourself to check this still isn’t a dream. But this is real life. Not fantasy. “Now come on, we’ve got a bassist to meet.”

 

The drive over to the university is pleasant, the three of you in silence listening to The Beatles on the radio. At least staying with Brian would give you time to figure stuff out. You would start by going back to the scene of the event to see if there was a way back through where you came. But you didn’t know truly what had happened to you or why.

You exit the van and walk into the building, heading for one of the lecture rooms. When you arrive, a man is already waiting there. You recognise him immediately. You realise that you are about to watch John Deacon’s audition for Queen.

The men greet each other and John says hello shyly to you. He plugs in his amp and begins to play ‘Doing All Right’. You are mesmerised. All of you are. You cannot believe you are watching this. When he is done, they all shake hands and thank him for playing.

“What did you think?” Brian leans over and asks you.

“You’re asking me?” you reply, quite shocked. You have no musical talent whatsoever and you have nothing to do with the band.

“Yeah. We’ve seen a lot of bass players already, I want a fresh opinion.”

 _Shit,_ you have to be careful what you say here. You can’t mess with history. You take a big deep breath. “Well he played excellently that’s for sure.”

“Don’t you think he’s a bit quiet?”

“Yes, but that could be a good thing. You don’t want conflicting personalities in a band.”

Brian nods in approval but before he can reply there is an almighty bang as the door swings open.

“Sorry I’m late,” someone says, bursting into the room like they own it. You don’t even have to look at them to know who it is.

“Late?” Roger replies, raising his voice with an angry tone. “You call this late?”

“Audition is over Fred,” Brian steps in, stopping Roger from losing his temper.

“Well he can play again, can’t he?” Freddie demands.

“He shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” John says quietly but no one, except you, hears him.

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen darling, that’s usually my job,” says Freddie, waving his hands about flamboyantly. “In fact, we should call ourselves that, instead of that horrible name Smile.”

“Call ourselves what?”

“Queen. Sounds better, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with Smile?”

As you watch them talking, you notice Brian glaring at you out of the corner of your eye. Your eyes meet awkwardly, his gaze reaching into your soul, burning a hole in your skin, as you look away in fear. He’s remembered what you said last night. About him being in a band called Queen. You are screwed.

Roger and Freddie go on arguing melodramatically for what seems like hours when all of a sudden John begins to play a riff over the top of their shouting. You’ve never heard it before but it’s damn good.

“That’s an excellent riff dear,” Freddie applauds, turning away from Roger.

“And a good amp mate, where’d you get it?” asks Roger, observing it closely.

“I made it,” John replies in a nonchalant manner, still playing like a natural.

“You what?” Roger asks incredulously. He looks at Brian, raising his eyebrows and smiling. Brian has the same look on his face as they both turn to meet Freddie’s gaze. The three of them all have the exact same thought.

“When can you start?” says Brian proudly.

After everything settles down, Freddie walks over to where you have been sat, just watching them all in awe. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Freddie Bulsara,” he says to you extending his hand for you to shake. You do so and he sits down next to you. “Y/N.”

“So Y/N,” he points to Brian and Roger. “Which one are you shagging?”

You giggle hysterically at the very thought of it. “No neither, I just met them last night. I’m kind of homeless.”

“Ah, boyfriend troubles is it?” He lights a cigarette and offers you one but you shake your head no.

“Yeah, he’s a wanker,” you reply, causing Freddie to chuckle. You can’t help but feel a sense of warmness over the purity of his smile.

“Most men are my dear. I’m ever so thankful for Mary.”

You smile at him, remembering who Mary Austin was. You felt a sense of sadness for the man, knowing how that relationship would end but there was little you could do about it.

“Right then,” Brian says, approaching you both. “Pub?”

 

As the five of you drive to the pub you realise that it is the same place from last night. This is your opportunity to get back home. You sit down with them, waiting for an opening to excuse yourself. Freddie goes to get the drinks in, John helping him carry them, as an apology for being late.

“So Rog, what is it exactly that attracts you to dentistry? You enjoy sticking your fingers in people’s mouths?” Brian teases and you giggle next to him.

“The money isn’t bad,” he replies, ignoring Brian’s joke. “Saving up for a sports car.”

“Oh, you’re into cars then?” Brian asks and you stifle a laugh, thinking of Roger's infamous song.  

Freddie returns with the drinks and you promptly tell them that you are going to the bathroom. When they look away, more engrossed in their conversation than you, you run out of the front door. You search for the alleyway, finding it completely empty. No light appears. Not even the rubbish bin is there anymore. Just nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

You run your palms along the bricks in a futile attempt to get something to happen. Anything. Tears run down your cheeks as you realise there is no way back. You are stuck here. You will never see your friends or family again. You will be an old woman by the time Anna is born. Your mother will die never finding her lost child again. You are hyperventilating now, still pressed against the wall as you turn so that your back is against it and slide down, curling up into an emotional ball.

When you hear footsteps coming down the alley, you quickly jump up and wipe away your tears as best you can. Brian emerges but he can tell you’ve been crying as he gives you a sympathetic look. “Thought you’d done a disappearing act on us for a moment there,” he says, moving closer to you.

“How’d you know I was down here?”

“I heard crying. Is it about the boyfriend thing?” You nod, still rubbing your eyes until they are sore.  “You coming back?”

“Why are you helping me?” you decide to ask, plucking up the courage within yourself.

He pauses, staring at you again. Right through you. He sighs a heavy breath, looking down at his feet before looking back at you. “There’s something about you Y/N and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

He definitely suspects something then, but he’s not sure what. Would he even believe you if you told him? Would anyone in their right mind? ‘So I one minute I was in twenty-nineteen and then I fell through some weird portal thing and ended up in nineteen-seventy-one and I can’t tell you how or why.’ Everyone would think you are crazy. “Everyone has their secrets,” you reply.

“They do,” he agrees. There is another pause where neither of you know what to say as your words hang in the air. Eventually, your eyes make contact again. “Now are you coming back because it’s freezing out her and Roger said he’s getting a round in. I can’t miss such a rare occasion.”

You smile and walk back into the bar with him. You had no idea what tomorrow would bring but whatever it was, you would face it headlong.


	3. The Night Comes Down

“Any qualifications?” the snooty, well-dressed woman sitting across from you asks as she scribbles in her notebook.

You glance down at your feet, embarrassed of what you have to say next. “Not exactly,” you mutter as you scratch the back of your neck. Back home, in the real world, you have a degree in graphic design but here you cannot even prove you graduated high school. But getting a job in the seventies was easy right? At least that was how your mother made it sound and you desperately needed money to pay Brian back for all his generosity and get your own place. Until you can figure out how the hell to get back to your own time that.

She leans forward and lowers her glasses. “Nothing at all?” she replies in the most patronising tone she can muster. “Right well that really does narrow down your options.” She starts flicking through some pages of the newspaper, circling a few adds and passes it to you. You raise your eyebrows at what she has picked out for you. _Dog Walking? Litter Picker? Manual labour?_ You smile and nod and exit her office, after promising you’ll have a look at the vacancies. How are you ever going to get enough money to survive?

You walk down the hall and decide to waste some time in the library while you wait for Brian to return from practice. There was little to do at his tiny flat when he was not there. Seventies television was hardly riveting to you and drinking was the only other form of entertainment available. How these guys survived without mobile phones and play stations, you really don’t know.

You meander through the aisles, looking for something of interest that wasn’t a dusty old book on the Crimean War. Eventually, your eye catches something. Something you would never have looked at normally but now it may just be of use. _Relativity: The Special and the General Theory by Albert Einstein_. Your eyes light up as you immediately pull the book from the shelf and begin to read. You vaguely remember doing it in school as it was one of the only things that interested you.  The concept of time travel. It was impossible, or so you thought, and only something that could happen in science fiction but yet here you were.

 _None of it makes sense_ , you sigh as you digest the words from page to page but your artistic mind cannot grasp the concept. You wished you could ask Brian about this stuff as you know physics is his thing but he’d only think you were crazy. There was no way he’d believe you just dropped out of the future and right into the seventies. Would he? Nevertheless, you check the book out and stash it in your backpack for now and return home.

 

When you arrive, you find the place empty and assume Brian will, like any good rock star, have gone to the pub after rehearsal. Yet when you get there, his curly mane is nowhere to be seen. You slump down on a barstool and order a pint of whatever to drown your sorrows in diluted crap after an even crappier day.

“You look like how I feel?” a voice next to you says as you almost jump out of your skin and fall off your stool. You turn to see that it is Roger sitting there, laughing into his beer at the sight of you.

“Oh hey,” you say bashfully. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles and wipes the froth from his upper lip with his sleeve. “Where you been?”

“Jobcentre.”

“Any luck?”

“None at all. How come you’re not rehearsing with the guys?”

“Oh, we’re finished. There was an argument about…something. Don’t know wasn’t really listening but anyway Freddie stormed out and Brian the opposite way. Who knows where they are now.”

“What did they argue about?”

“I don’t know, ‘artistic differences.” He shrugs as the bartender places the pint of ale in front of you and you hand him the money. Roger stares at it intently.

“Yeah well at least you get to live the rock and roll life, I may be picking up dog shit for the rest of my days,” you say, rolling your eyes but trying to make light of the situation when you realise that Roger is still staring at the glass and not listening to a word you just said. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realise my pint has something more interesting to say than I do.”

Roger laughs and finally looks away, getting the attention of the bartender as he does so. “Oi Mike, you know how you owe me a favour?”

The man walks over with cocked eyebrows and his hands on his hips. “I don’t like the sound of this…”

“Y/N here needs a job.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on mate, she needs money and you need a hard worker. It’s a win-win.”

Mike turns to you and looks you up and down, making you incredibly nervous. “Can you pull a pint?”

“I’ve worked in bars before.”

“Can you deal with rude people?”

“I put up with these guys, don’t I?” You gesture Roger and he nods his head as if to say ‘fair enough’.

“You start first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh my god thank you!” you say and Mike almost cracks a smile before walking off to serve a customer. This time you turn your attention to Roger. “Thank you thank you thank you!” you say excitedly as you jump off your stall and kiss him on the cheek. You stumble forward as you lose your footing but he grabs your arms and keeps you steady.

“Easy there, you don’t want to knock all of your teeth out before you even start.”

You smile at his comment. “But you can fix them for me.”

He laughs as you stand up straight and back away a little as you suddenly realise that you have just kissed Roger Taylor on the cheek. Your life is beyond crazy. “I uh…better go. See you later Roger. Thanks again.” You walk out flustered and in a hurry.

“See you Y/N,” he shouts back to you as you close the door behind you.

 

A sudden bang jolts you up from your sleeping position on the sofa so quickly that you get an instant head rush. After a second or so, you realise that Brian just walked through the door. You fling the blanket off you and hide the science book that had sent you to sleep into your backpack.

“Hey,” he says quietly, emotionless and weak.

“I have good news!” you say gleefully. “I got a job at the pub so I can pay you back for everything and be out of your hair for good soon.” You smile but he merely stares placidly back at you.

“Shame, kind of like having you around.” He half-smiles at you before walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. Your heart swells at the compliment, you like living with him too, but you know you cannot stay here forever. You have a life to get back to.

“Bad day?” you ask, to change the subject.

“Just the usual. I’d rather just relax and forget about it now if it’s all the same.”

“Sure. I bought this.” You go to the fridge and pull out the bottle of wine you purchased on the way home. “It’s just cheap crap but I thought I should celebrate the fact that I’m not completely useless and can now pay my way. Wanna share it with me?” To your delight, he smiles and nods as you pour two glasses.

“Can I ask you something?” he says ominously.

“Of course.”

“The other night, when we met. You called my band Queen. And then the next day Freddie decides to change the name to just that even though you’ve never met.” His look is suspicious and you can hardly blame him. You must have sounded completely insane that night and you’re only glad that Roger chalked it up to cannabis.

“What’s your point?” you ask nervously as you take your glass from the kitchen and into the lounge and take your place on the sofa.

He follows you swiftly and takes the seat next to you, plumping up the cushion you slept on beforehand. “It’s just weird is all.”

“Just a coincidence,” you shrug.

“There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

You gaze at him, searching his eyes for an answer but nothing would come to you. You feel as though you are on trial but you can’t think of a decent reply. “I was off my head, I’d say anything.”

“If you say so.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you and the longer you stay here the harder it’s going to be to keep up the lie. The sooner you leave the better. “So, had any more trouble from that ex of yours?” You are thankful that he has let the topic die but you’re not sure this one was much better. Although Sean now currently existed in a different century, the fear of him still remained with you.

“No, I’ve not seen him,” you respond perhaps a little too quickly. You put your glass of wine down on the table as you notice your hands have started to shake. Brian has noticed too.

“How come he won’t let you get your stuff? You should call the police, that’s theft.”

You shake your head. “I’d rather not see him again. It’s fine, I didn’t own much anyway.” You look away from him, fixing your gaze on a vase, and lose yourself in your thoughts. You wished you could forget this guy and yet even in another time you find yourself scared and broken. You don’t realise how long you’ve been disassociating until Brian is shaking you and calling your name. You snap out of it and turn to Brian who is looking at you concerned.

“Sorry,” you say.

“What did he do to you?” he says softly.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just you’re normally so headstrong. And now you’re…skittish. Afraid.”

 _There’s no point in telling him,_ you think to yourself. There’s no point in getting close to anyone here, you’ll be leaving soon. And yet you feel a pull towards him. You look down and fiddle with the seam of your dress to avoid eye contact as you take a deep breath. “He hurt me. Mentally as well as physically. He used to put me down and tell me I’m useless and ugly. And he stopped me talking to everyone I cared about. I didn’t even see my mum for a whole year because of him! And then after all that he cheated on me with some girl from his work. I just felt so pathetic; you know? He said that he did it because I was so boring and stupid that he had to look elsewhere.” You’re sobbing now. The memories come flooding back and you feel like you are there again. You have the feeling of inadequacy again and it’s eating you alive. You continue to look away from him and reach for your glass of wine.

 As you do so, Brian stops you, taking your hand and bringing it back to your lap. He puts he glass down too and cups your face so that you are forced to look deep into his eyes. “You are none of those things, okay?” He wipes the tears from your cheeks as you nod and smile.

“I know, it’s just-”

Suddenly there is an almighty knock on the door that almost gives you a heart attack. A feeling of relief washes over you at the distraction and you are hoping you can leave this subject to lie. “Open up dear!” Freddie yells from the other side, still banging.

Brian rolls his eyes as he gets up to answer it. Freddie, Roger, and John flounce into the room, followed by a woman you have never seen before. You jump up from the sofa, trying desperately to dry your eyes. You smile at them widely, trying to hide any evidence of your previous breakdown. They all take a seat as Roger and Freddie take a gulp of the leftover wine. “Come in. Make yourself at home,” Brian says to them sarcastically. “You’ve already broken my door down.”

“Oh don’t be such a drama queen,” Freddie replied flippantly.

“Don’t you answer your phone?” Roger complains to Brian and John watches them, chuckling to himself.

“It’s broken.”

“Well anyway, we have some amazing news!” Freddie says excitedly, holding the hand of the small blond woman and it finally clicks who she is. “Queen is making an album. At De Lane Lea. We start tomorrow!”

“What? That’s amazing!” Brian responds, looking like he is at a loss for words. Even Freddie looks surprised and like he doesn’t have the words to express what he wants to say. There is a first time for everything.

“I don’t have to be a dentist,” says Roger laughing as the four guys pull each other in for a group hug.

You watch in awe as you witness a monumental occasion in rock and roll history. It amazes you how happy they are, genuine happiness, that their hard work is finally being recognised. You were unsure if knowing their future was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand you knew they would be big. The biggest band in the world. But you also knew all the heartbreak and suffering they would go through. It was hard to watch Freddie, seeing him so full of joy and pride in this moment, knowing that it would not last. But nothing lasts forever. No one can live forever.

You turn away, it all getting too much, and gaze out of the window onto the cold London street.

 “Drink?” says Roger, who is beside you handing you a mug of champagne. “Didn’t have enough glasses.” You take it and smile, tearing your eyes away from the window. As you take it you feel your fingers gently brush against his and he smirks at you like he knows something that you don’t. You both hold each other’s gaze for a brief moment before breaking away. “You joining the rest of the party?” he asks. You nod as you take his hand and follow him to the rest of the group.

From a distance, Brian watches the two of you carefully. His expression cold.


End file.
